


An Ever-Fixed Mark

by Karis_Artemisia_Judith



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Bathtub Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Jealousy, Love Bites, Sex and Chocolate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 07:42:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2059707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karis_Artemisia_Judith/pseuds/Karis_Artemisia_Judith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The chocolate sauce had been a mistake.</p>
<p>Kristoff had tried, to humor her, but she could tell that despite her best efforts he was really not enjoying the experiment. It had sounded so good in her head—sex, chocolate, Kristoff, all her favorite things at once—but it was not going quite the way she’d imagined. The sauce was too sticky, the smell of it was more overwhelming than amazing, and it was drying too quickly for her scheme of finger painting her husband to work very well. When she accidentally tipped the bowl over, coating both of them in slightly-too-warm sauce and making a mess on the floor, it was the final straw.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Ever-Fixed Mark

**Author's Note:**

> Kristanna Smut Week, Prompt 8: Everyone’s a bit of a fixer-upper

The chocolate sauce had been a mistake.

Kristoff had tried, to humor her, but she could tell that despite her best efforts he was really not enjoying the experiment. It had sounded  _so good_  in her head—sex, chocolate, Kristoff, all her favorite things at once—but it was not going quite the way she’d imagined. The sauce was too sticky, the smell of it was more overwhelming than amazing, and it was drying too quickly for her scheme of finger painting her husband to work very well. When she accidentally tipped the bowl over, coating both of them in slightly-too-warm sauce and making a mess on the floor, it was the final straw.

Kristoff began to laugh. Anna flopped down with a groan, squelching a little in the puddle of chocolate—at least Kristoff had insisted that they try her new game on the floor with the rug rolled out of the way, and she wouldn’t have to explain ruined bedding to anyone. Her husband gave her a sympathetic kiss on the forehead.

"I’m sorry, sweetheart."

"It’s okay," she muttered. "It was a dumb idea. Ugh, what a mess. It’s going to take forever to clean this up."

"We can deal with the floor later," he said. "It’ll probably just scrape off, when it’s dry. But we’d better get ourselves cleaned up if we’re going to be ready in time for the thing tonight."

"Stupid ball. I wish we didn’t have to go."

Kristoff paused in the act of getting up, his head tilting as he looked at her. “But you love balls. You said last week that you wished there was a ball every night.”

"I know, I just—I guess I’m finally getting tired of it. Two in one week is too many."

"Do you really not want to go? I could tell everyone that you aren’t feeling well, if you want to—"

"No! no, it’s okay. It’s okay, I’ll go. I don’t want you to have to go on your own. I’ll be fine."

"Okay." He got to his feet, making a face as he wiped ineffectually at the sticky mess on his chest. "I’m going to get cleaned up, then. Coming?"

"You go ahead, I’ll…I’ll just be a minute."

Anna dropped her arm over her face, sighing, and heard his footsteps move away, making soft, sticky sucking noises and probably leaving chocolate footprints. She was so stupid. Stupid, and ridiculous, and not sexy. There was the sound of water splashing in the bathroom, and a murmur of voices—Kristoff must have rung for hot water, something he rarely did even after two years in the castle. She really should get up and go join him, get this embarrassing mess cleaned up, and get ready to face the ball, because she’d also have to face the countess….Anna tried to get up, and couldn’t.

She burst idiotically into tears, which was how Kristoff found her a few minutes later when he emerged from the bathroom, scrubbed pink and wrapped in a towel.

"Anna, there’s hot bath water if you—Anna? What’s wrong?"

She rubbed at her face, sniffing. “I’m okay, I’m just—I’m s-stuck.” She began to cry again.

He had to help her up, pulling her out of the messy puddle with a loud, sucking  _pop_. “Are you okay? Did that hurt?”

"I’m fine. I’m fine, I’m just a mess."

Kristoff looked at her for a minute, then gently guided her into the bathroom. Anna stood quietly, trying to stop the tears that kept trickling down her face while he dipped a cloth in the hot water and used it to scrub the chocolate from her back. He cleaned her stained fingers, gently rubbed away the smears on her chest and stomach, and finally tilted her chin up so that he could carefully wipe the tears away from her cheeks.

"Anna, what’s wrong? Tell me."

She just shook her head, putting her hands over her face, but she didn’t resist when he picked her up. Kristoff stepped into the bath and sat down in the steaming water with Anna on his lap, but instead of soothing her the hot water only seemed to make the dam of tears break again. She curled up against his chest and cried. He held her close, running a calming hand over her back helplessly while she sobbed into his shoulder.

"I’m sorry," she mumbled, "I’m sorry."

"Shh, Anna, please—tell me what’s wrong. Is it the ball?"

She shook her head, her face hidden against him.

"Is it that the sex didn’t work?"

She shrugged a little, and he rubbed her back some more.

"Anna, I’m so sorry—but we’ve tried things that didn’t quite work before, and you’ve always laughed. What made this time different? Did I do something wrong? Did I—did I hurt you?"

The anxiety in his voice made Anna finally lift her head. “No! No, of course not! You’ve never—you didn’t do anything wrong, it’s  _me_ , it’s all me. I’m such a  _mess_.” Her shoulders sagged, but he caught her chin carefully.

"Anna, tell me what’s really the matter. Please."

"I just…I just wanted to be…I wanted to prove that I could be really good. You know, in…in bed. Except I guess on the floor."

“ _What_? Anna, why would you need to prove anything? Things have always been good between us,  _very_  good—haven’t they?” he finished, a little uncertainly.

"Of course they have, I just…" Anna bit her lip, glanced up into her husband’s warm, concerned brown eyes, and hesitantly began to explain everything.

It has started with the foreign countess. She was visiting Arendelle, and her reputation has preceded her—the whole court was buzzing with rumors and stories about her famous history, how she’d been a courtesan before her marriage elevated her in society, how she’d charmed men on every continent, how she could seduce the most chaste of clergymen, how her prowess and creativity as a lover had left a trail of men clinging hopelessly at her heels as she traveled here and there. Anna had been fascinated. Arendelle was still a very conservative place, reserved and restrained, and the idea that someone could be so well known for, well,  _that_  had interested her. And the countess had been interesting, and charming—until she had looked at Kristoff, turning all the force of her doe-eyed gaze and her low bodice with its impressive display of cleavage and her tall, shapely figure.

The countess was all husky, sultry voice and long lashes, and lingering touches on his arm and Kristoff had been staring, just like every other man in the room, and Anna had never felt so small, so insignificant, so flat chested and freckled and skinny. She wrapped her arms around herself and hunched her shoulders, remembering. “I just…” she said finally. “I just wanted to prove that I could be sexy and exciting too, so that you wouldn’t want look at her like…like  _that._ ”

"So you…you were  _jealous_?”

"You don’t have to sound so happy about it," she huffed. "And you can hardly blame me, when you were practically drooling on her—"

"Anna, I wasn’t—I mean, I didn’t mean—it was hard not to look at what was being shoved in my face, but you know it didn’t mean anything. I would  _never_ —you know I would never do anything like that. Don’t you?”

"I know, I just—I just still—"

"You still felt jealous." He smiled at her. "I know what that’s like."

"You do? Why?"

"Because every time there’s a ball and I have to watch you dance with other men! And they put their arms around you, and they make you laugh, and they look down your dress—"

“ _What_?”

"Some of them do, anyway. But they all watch you, and they touch you too much, and they hog your attention, and I just—" He growled a little in his throat, scowling. "They should know better, they all know that you’re mine."

Anna stared up at him, wide eyed. “Is that why…” She stopped, and licked her lips. “Is that why you always want…after every ball you want to—” His scowl faded and his heavy lidded look was all the answer she needed. After every ball, no matter how late it was or how tired they were, he always wanted to have his way with her, and she was never immune his coaxing. Often they barely had time to get into their room before he was pulling her to him, gathering up her skirts. She had teased about it being his reward for putting up with the formal occasions. He got her back before every ball by teasing her with unfulfilled kisses, which was a bit of a problem because he always—

She sat up in the water, splashing. “Kristoff! And  _that’s_  why you always leave marks before the ball!”

He flushed. “It makes me feel better, knowing that they’re there.”

"And all those times I had to tell you not to tug on my sleeve because you were pulling the neckline of my dress down and letting them show during balls…you were doing it on  _purpose_!”

Kristoff cleared his throat awkwardly. “Only when someone is being too friendly,” he muttered.

"You don’t really think that I’d let someone else touch me, do you?" she asked quietly.

He lifted a hand to stroke her cheek. “No,” he said. “I trust you. But I don’t trust  _them_.” He paused. “And you—you trust me, don’t you? Anna, you know that I don’t want anyone but you. Looking isn’t the same as wanting. I only ever want you.”

For answer she pulled his mouth to hers, kissing him warmly. His hands smoothed gently over her back as the soft touch deepened, her lips sucking gently at his bottom one. She ran her fingers over his shoulders, his chest, combing her fingertips through the golden hair there, trailing her fingers down to find the place where it started again at the base of his stomach. He groaned appreciatively as her nails scratched lightly just above the thicker patch of darker hair, and his tongue curled against hers.

She drew back for air, resting her forehead against his as his hands slid over her skin below the water, caressing her buttocks, her sides, cupping and caressing her breasts. She kissed him lightly as his thumbs teased her, smiling against him. Acres of cleavage she might not have, but her breasts did fit so perfectly into his hands. A thought occurred to her and her smile grew wicked.

Anna dug her fingers into his hair, tugging until he tilted his head back, baring his throat. For a moment she paused, then she leaned forward to press a kiss to his jaw. His stubble was rough against her lips, and he shifted as though he meant to turn his head and kiss her back, but she kept her hands firm in his hair. Kristoff relaxed back against the edge of the tub, a faint, knowing smile flickering over his mouth as he let her have her way. Anna turned her attention to his neck, touching brief, thoughtful kisses to the underside of his chin and down his throat as she considered.

Finally she settled her mouth against the sensitive spot just behind his ear, kissing it tenderly. His faint, appreciative hum turned into a harsh groan as her hips rocked over him, her lips parting to suck firmly at the skin of his neck for a few seconds. Then she paused, scattering kisses over his shoulder as her slick folds ground against his hardness. Strong hands pressed against her back, her sides, grasped her hips. Anne nuzzled against his neck, focusing on her chosen place, alternating between drawing on the skin with her lips and tongue and scraping delicately with her teeth. Kristoff moaned in response, his breathing ragged, rough breaths that sometimes made the sound of her name interspersed with faint grunts as his hips moved against hers. His skin was damp with sweat and steam and she flicked her tongue over it, tasting him.

“ _Anna_.” She shifted against him, breasts pressed to his chest as she lifted up to kiss him. His eyes opened, questioning, and she smiled. When she sank back down it was with his hands guiding her onto him.

His moans grew louder as she rolled her hips against him, mouth pulling hard at the skin of his neck, and his hands dug into her back as he thrust up into her. Water sloshed around them, splashing onto the floor as they both grew more and more frantic, until Anna threw her head back, crying out. She collapsed shaking against his chest in time to feel the rumble of his deep groan as he followed her into release. His arms wrapped tightly around her as his body jerked helplessly once, twice, filling her with heat.

They lay quietly for a moment, the room silent except for the sound of their breathing, the cooling water growing still. Finally Anna lifted up to look at him. Kristoff’s head was still thrown back, his damp hair falling away from his face, from his neck, exposing the livid red mark that she’d left on him. Anna smiled, bending to give the bruise a satisfied flick with her tongue. “Mine,” she murmured.

He opened his eyes, his hand running warmly up her back. “Always,” he told her.

At the ball, the famous countess paused in the middle of a sentence when Anna appeared beside her, interrupting her conversation with the ice master. The princess casually reached out to smooth her husband’s hair back, tidying it with a domestic, wifely gesture, but it was not the gesture that gave the countess pause. She glanced from the mark on Kristoff’s neck, still vivid and dark, to the equally vivid and even fresher mark on Anna’s shoulder, where it was not quite concealed by the princess’ embroidered gauze wrap.

With an irritable snap of her fan, the countess sweetly excused herself, leaving in search of easier prey.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me not to the marriage of true minds  
> Admit impediments. Love is not love  
> Which alters when it alteration finds,  
> Or bends with the remover to remove.  
> O no, it is an ever-fixed mark  
> That looks on tempests and is never shaken….
> 
> -William Shakespeare, Sonnet 116


End file.
